


Bird of the Summer

by SephSung



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Amusement Parks, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Coming In Pants, Crying, Cumming in boxers, Drinking, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Mentions of Death, Minho is sad, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plushie Fucking, Plushies, Sloppy Makeouts, Sloppy handjobs, Sweaters, Top Han Jisung | Han, sweater fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SephSung/pseuds/SephSung
Summary: Jisung is Minho's only escape.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 57
Kudos: 361





	1. You Came with the Season

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here's the first chapter to the sheltered Minho fic I've been talking about for forever, written in collaboration with [@bottmsungie](https://twitter.com/bottmsungie) on Twitter. Thank you once again for all of your help <3
> 
> Title is from Bird of the Summer by A Fine Frenzy. Make sure you read the tags, as this does start off a little sad. I also added some tags that don't occur yet in this first chapter, but I have them written already or for sure plan to write them.
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy! This fic is really important to me, so I hope everyone likes it. :) Second chapter will likely be posted within the next couple of weeks. I swear this will not be another Taken situation where I never update (sorry about that lol)

Minho never left the house.

He was trapped -- trapped inside this little bubble, tucked away and hidden from the outside world. His only escape came in the form of Han Jisung, his neighbor from across the street.

Jisung kept him updated on everything; Minho wasn't allowed anything but his books, so he couldn't rely on the internet or television to keep him updated on what's going on in the world. His mom said it was for his own good, that she was doing him a favor by shielding him from anything potentially dangerous to his innocent eyes.

Things changed when the pair grew up and Jisung went to college, though. He no longer had any contact with the outside world. He was stuck in his stupid, small bedroom in the basement, forced to take care of his sick mother. 

He thought about Jisung. A lot. So much it was probably unhealthy. But what else did he have? His books? Minho scoffed to himself. He'd read each one over several times by now, and all they did was make him feel more alone. Now that Jisung was gone, all he had left was the idea of him.

Minho never slept very well, usually plagued by thoughts of what could have been, but sometimes kept awake by thoughts of Jisung. They were rarely appropriate, and he felt guilty for them. He often wondered what Jisung would think if he knew what sick thoughts ran through his head; images of them kissing, of Jisung naked, of them touching each other gently, passionately, washed over him most often.

It was wrong; he knew it. Yet he couldn't help but indulge those thoughts, couldn't resist feeding into the strange feeling that pooled in his gut almost nightly.

"Fuck…" Minho whispered quietly. He felt dirty saying such a bad word, but it was somehow invigorating. Freeing. And once he got a taste of the foul word, he couldn't get enough. He repeated it to himself as he slid his shirt over his head, revealing his upper body to the chilly night air. 

He ran a finger across his sensitive nipple, shivering and whining softly at the featherlight touch. 

"Jisung…" he whimpered quietly, pretending the gentle finger was his. "More."

His fingers pinched and tugged at his nipples seemingly of their own accord, causing the brunette to subconsciously start rutting against his bed. He gasped at the feeling of the sheets against his clothed cock, his mind so full of Jisung as he shamefully pleasured himself -- and even more shamefully glanced up to where his plushies sat on his bed. 

His gaze locked onto one in particular: the plushie which he’d received from Jisung as they parted ways before he went to college. It resembled him in every way, from his squishy, round cheeks to his warm brown eyes. It was the closest thing he had to the real Jisung, and while he  _ knew  _ he shouldn’t do what he was about to, knew he shouldn’t taint something so special, he was too wrapped up in his desperation to stop himself. He would just wash it later, as he always did with the rest of his plushies.

Continuing to rub his fingers over his nipple, he reached upward and took the plushie with a shaking hand. He took a moment just to look at it, admiring all of the features that he missed from the real Jisung, and raised his hips so he could lodge the plushie underneath his crotch. The first rut against it sent electricity through his body -- it was a similar sensation to grinding against his bed, but just the knowledge that it was something that looked like Jisung, that smelled like Jisung, was  _ touched  _ by Jisung, had it feeling so much better. 

He whimpered into the sheets, hand moving to grip them tightly as he settled on a steady pace to rock his hips. It felt so  _ good _ , so disgracefully good, the curves of the toy rubbing against him in all of the right ways and causing his body to arch and writhe uncontrollably. He felt a wetness seep into the fabric of his boxers, a sign, he learned through practice, that indicated he was getting closer to  _ that  _ feeling. That strange, addictive feeling.

He dug his hips deeper against the plushie, eyes squeezing shut and his mind drifting to imagine the toy as Jisung himself, to imagine rutting such a dirty place against Jisung’s skin, to imagine Jisung touching him all over. 

“Jisung, fuck, Jisung…” His words came out as a taut, broken whisper, his hand roaming over his chest and switching between each nipple to tug at the sensitive skin, each press and pull of his fingers serving to bring him closer to the edge. His hips were moving faster now, that strange feeling building up inside him, and he gripped the sheets with all of his might as he mercilessly rutted into what he imagined, what he  _ wished  _ was Jisung.

Minho let out a subconscious whine as he reached  _ it _ , the feeling overwhelming his senses and his body reacting wildly -- his hips stammered against the plushie and his toes curled, thighs squeezing meekly around the toy. The front of his boxers became drenched with that white, milky liquid that he didn’t quite know the name of, and while he was sure it was soaking through and dirtying the plushie, he found himself too exhausted to move. 

With his plushie in hand, Minho collapsed on the bed and laid there for a while, attempting to catch his breath and letting what he'd just done soak in. He examined his poor, poor Jisung doll; thankfully, it was only the slightest bit wet. Minho took off his boxers and wiped the white liquid off of himself with them, then tossed them in a corner before passing out, clutching his plushie close.

The next day, Minho decided to risk going into his shed, his and Jisung's special meeting place, despite knowing it would hurt. He opened the door slowly, bracing himself, and when he finally set eyes on the room, he wanted to cry. Everything was the same as when Jisung had left, books strewn about and the mattress in a state of disarray.

If he focused hard enough, he swore he could even smell faint traces of Jisung -- a sweet, musky scent with hints of patchouli and myrrh. The more he looked around, the more painfully obvious it was that Jisung had been here. The blinds were open just like how Jisung preferred them, the blankets were all bunched up on his side of the bed, and Jisung’s favorite book sat open on the side table next to Minho’s beanbag. 

What hurt the most was finding the sweater Jisung always wore on Minho’s side of the mattress. He’d had no idea that Jisung had left it there, and he trembled a little upon realizing he could have been wearing it this entire time. Minho picked it up with shaky hands, tears pooling in his eyes, and he brought it up to his nose. Jisung’s scent was so much stronger this way, and it pushed him further into denial. Jisung wasn’t gone; Jisung would be back any second now.

As Minho desperately inhaled the piece of fabric, those same images that whirled around in his head at night apparated and took over his brain. A single tear fell down his cheek as he envisioned Jisung naked, smiling underneath him. God, he missed him, and  _ god, _ he wanted him. When he started to feel that familiar warmth pooling in his gut again, another tear fell. 

“Not now,” he whimpered to himself pathetically. He tried to resist -- he really did. He didn’t  _ want _ to taint this precious item like he had his plushie, and yet, he found himself putting it between his legs, making his attempts to hold back obsolete. His hips moved of their own volition, grinding down onto the saccharine object, prompting him to gasp. Jisung’s name fell off his lips as a few more tears fell down his face, dripping onto the mattress beneath him. 

Minho sniffled out an “I’m sorry, Jisung” as he pleasured himself against the sweater, the scent of Jisung stuck in his senses and quickly pushing him closer to the edge. It was so bittersweet -- while it felt so good, so relieving, he couldn’t seem to stop the tears from falling. His chest was tight. His heart was aching. All he could bring himself to do was rut pitifully against the fabric and whimper between sobs, ashamed of the rise that built up inside him.

It didn’t take long before the brunette was reaching  _ that  _ point, keening and gripping the mattress for stability as the feeling overcame him and he dirtied his boxers. He felt guilty as soon as he came down from his high; what he was doing wasn't right, and he knew it. Jisung would probably leave him for good if he ever found out. 

Minho wore that sweater every day from then on, finding what remained of his scent to be soothing, comforting. He could hug himself and almost imagine that Jisung was in his arms, holding him so close that he could bury his nose in his neck and inhale his scent. But there was no warmth, no skin on skin. Only him and that piece of fabric.

"Why are you wearing that sweater again?" his mom asked one day when Minho was bringing her breakfast.

"It's Jisung's."

"Jisung's? Do you like him or something?" 

"No!" Minho defended quickly. He was well aware that his mother looked down on boys who liked boys, and that she'd probably find the strength to beat the shit out of him if she only knew about Minho's feelings towards Jisung.

"Good. Get rid of it then." His mother flung a large spoon of soup at him; it landed directly on his precious sweater, and Minho instantly felt tears threatening to fall. He would have to wash it, which would get rid of Jisung's scent. 

He started sleeping in the shed after that; it was the only place where he could both feel at peace and still have Jisung's scent. His pillow smelled like his strawberry shampoo, and Minho found himself burying his face in it a little more often than he should, pretending he was burying his face in Jisung's hair instead. 

It wasn't long before his thoughts consumed him entirely and he couldn't sleep at all, though. Every day that passed was followed by another sleepless night spent thinking about Jisung. Usually, he was able to crash after he rid himself of that strange feeling in his gut, but now, it was replaced by a different feeling.

Pain. Pain enveloped his entire body, became the only thing he could feel. He missed Jisung so much that he could feel it in his chest, his stomach, down to his core. The worst part was not knowing whether or not Jisung felt the same. Was he hurting like he was, or was he moving on with his life? What if he forgot about him?

Minho shivered at the idea of being forgotten, and it really settled in how if he were to die, the only ones who would remember him were his mother and Jisung. No one else cared about him. No one else even knew of his existence. And if Jisung forgot about him… Minho shivered again. He didn't want to think about that any longer. 

Another three weeks passed since the sweater incident, and Minho was quickly growing sick of not being able to sleep. Soon, he couldn't even  _ get _ to that finishing point. Instead, he sat there frustrated, impatient, as he frantically grinded down against his bed, his pillows, even his Jisung plushie. Nothing worked. He couldn't sleep without getting rid of that feeling in his gut, but it took hours at this point. He needed more _.  _ He needed  _ Jisung _ .

Minho had expected to see him in December, but Jisung didn't come during the winter. Instead, he wrote a letter to him, saying to mark down March 9th on his calendar. He promised he'd be here, so Minho waited, counting down the days until he'd arrive. 

March 9th couldn't have come fast enough. He woke up bright and early, and he sat on his beanbag reading Jisung's favorite book, wearing Jisung’s sweater, and cradling his Jisung plushie. He would have sat out front and waited for him there, but he wasn't allowed outside of the house except for in the backyard. Thankfully, Jisung knew to just come to the shed. 

Hours passed with no signs of Jisung, and he started to grow antsy. He supposed it made sense that he wouldn’t arrive so early in the morning, as it took at least a couple hours to get here from Jisung’s college and Jisung liked to sleep in anyways, but that didn’t help quell his nerves in the slightest. 

Minho kept nervously looking towards the clock; almost every time he checked, only a couple of minutes had passed, and he had to try to will himself to not look at it because he knew it would only make time seem to pass slower. Instead, he focused on Jisung’s book -- a cheesy romance novel where the two main characters went on many adventures together. Minho envied them.

It wasn’t fair how other people got to go out and experience the world while Minho was trapped here. The farthest distance he ever traveled was from his house to his shed. He’d been in this stupid house since the day he was born, kept away from the world. He didn’t even go to a proper school, but instead was homeschooled by his father, who passed away a couple of years ago. It was hard to think about, so Minho shook the thoughts of him out of his head and attempted to focus on his book again. 

His attempts were futile, though, as he was swept away by more thoughts of his father, of how unfair life was, of how miserable he was. He shut his eyes in anguish, lamenting what could have been, and he cried himself to sleep.

Minho was awoken by the sound of one knock, then three, then one, then two. His and Jisung's secret code. “Come in!” he said excitedly, holding his breath as the door opened. 

Jisung’s smiling face leaped into view and Minho immediately burst into happy tears; Jisung was here, Jisung was with him, Jisung hadn’t forgotten about him. Minho ran for a hug as soon as the blonde shut the door behind him, and they embraced passionately, holding each other close. 

“I missed you so much,” Jisung sobbed into his shoulder. Minho let out the breath he’d been holding, laughing as his own tears soaked Jisung’s shirt. He was happy; he was  _ finally _ happy. He couldn’t believe Jisung was real, that he was holding him in his arms right now, that he had missed him too. It was like a dream come true. 

“I missed you too. More than you know.” 

Jisung pulled back slowly, his arms still on Minho’s back, and they paused for a moment to just take in each other’s faces. 

“You look different,” Minho tilted his head. “Less round.”

“And you look more round,” Jisung teased. “My little circle.”

“Shut up, I like to eat.”

“It’s cute.”

Minho smiled at that, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. Jisung thought he was cute.  _ Han Jisung,  _ the love of his life, thought he was cute. Minho couldn't believe that this was real life. 

"You're blushing, are you still not used to compliments?" 

"How would I be? You're the only one who compliments me, and you've been gone for months."

"Right, sorry. And I'm really sorry that I didn't visit over winter break, my extended family wanted to see me," he pouted. "But I'm here now! And we are going to make the most of our time. I have so much planned for us."

"It's all a surprise! How would you feel about sneaking out?" Jisung asked, a devilish grin on his face.

"Sneaking out?" Minho's eyes widened. "Where would we go?"

"There's an amusement park not far from here. I could drive us there. It'll be lots of fun!"

Minho contemplated. He'd never been to an amusement park. Hell, he hadn't even been in a car before. "Sure," he said eventually, after deciding the risk was worth it. Everything was worth it if it was with Jisung. "My mom is spending the night at the hospital today, so there's no way she'd find out."

Jisung’s expression seemed to light up at his response, and he rushed to grab his keys and wallet. “Then let’s go!”

Minho nervously followed Jisung outside of the shed and to his car, and although he  _ knew  _ his mom wouldn’t find out, he couldn’t help but be on edge. But he trusted Jisung. It would be okay. 

Jisung guided him into the front seat of the car and shut the door behind him. The inside was a little messy, some college papers and chocolate wrappers strewn about; everything smelled so much like Jisung, the same scent from the shed, but amplified, and it only made his heart swell with happiness to know he was still the same old Jisung. 

The blonde hopped into the driver’s seat and flashed a smile at Minho, one that made his knees weak, before turning on the ignition and setting off. Minho clutched onto Jisung’s shirt as the car started moving, this all being so new to him, and Jisung laughed softly. “You okay?”

Minho nodded, slowly getting used to it, but refusing to let go of Jisung. It was one thing to read about people driving in cars, and another to actually be in one -- though he found himself relaxing as he looked out the window, beginning to watch the neighborhood pass by.

“It’s not far,” Jisung reassured him, turning a corner and leaving their street behind them. “It’s really pretty at night, I think you’ll like it. Everything is all lit up with lots of colored lights, and apparently if you look down when you’re on the top of the ferris wheel, it looks like a little rainbow city.”

Minho turned to Jisung, attempting to ignore how  _ attractive  _ he looked while he drove, with his eyes so focused on the road and his hands expertly controlling the wheel. He willed down that rise in his gut. “‘Apparently’? You still have that fear of heights?”

Jisung hummed in affirmation. “But maybe because  _ you’re  _ here, I’ll be able to bring myself to look down today.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat at that. “Or maybe you’ll just scream like a coward the whole time we’re on the ride.”

A laugh from Jisung. It was like music to Minho’s ears. 

Jisung hadn’t lied when he’d told him that it wasn’t far -- it was only around another ten minutes filled with Jisung describing different parts of the park and Minho drooling at the view of him driving before they’d arrived. Jisung found a place to park and switched the car off, then turned to Minho, who finally let go of his shirt. “It’s pretty late, so there won’t be too many people. If you get overwhelmed, let me know, okay?”

It took all that Minho had not to pull him into a hug at that moment, the boy so full of appreciation -- Jisung truly understood him better than anyone else in the world, and Minho desperately wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him everything he was feeling, but for now, he settled at an, “Okay, thank you.” 

Jisung also hadn’t lied about how  _ pretty  _ the amusement park was at night. After Jisung had paid for their tickets, Minho’s gaze swept over the park -- all of the rides and attractions were lit up so vibrantly, his eyes hurting a little from being so used to the dim lighting of the shed. There were so many colors and signs, and even the food vendors were brightly lit, sending a gurgle to his stomach. He wondered if Jisung would get them some food -- though, it was Jisung, and Jisung would never pass up an opportunity to eat.

“Where should we go first?” Jisung asked with a grin, and Minho began to wrack his brain to remember everything that the blonde had told him about on the way there, only for Jisung to interrupt his thoughts with a gasp. “Oh! What about the roller coaster? It’s kind of fast and scary, but it’s really fun!”

And he just looked so  _ excited _ , so adorably excited that Minho couldn’t say no. Minho had to be honest -- he’d read about roller coasters before, and every time someone in one of his books had gone on one, they’d ended up crying and screaming, and usually vomiting afterward, so he wasn’t quite sure if he was looking forward to it. 

All the way up until they’d settled into their cart on the roller coaster and it had started moving, Jisung had a humorous amount of confidence, gloating that he wouldn’t find it scary at all, and that Minho could cling to him if he needed to. However, as soon as the ride sped up, Jisung grabbed ahold of Minho’s hand tightly and  _ screamed _ \-- Minho would’ve found it funny, but quickly found himself screaming, too, holding onto the blonde equally as tightly. It was faster than Minho could have ever imagined, his hair flying backwards as the cart hurdled across the track at lightning speed, and while he definitely felt sick to his stomach, he was having more fun than he’d had in a long,  _ long  _ time. 

When they stepped off of the ride, Minho’s legs felt like jelly. The two boys exchanged glances at their messy hair and giggled.

Minho suddenly tuned in to the gurgling within his tummy -- ever since he’d seen those food vendors, lined with signs advertised with food his mom would  _ kill  _ him if he ate, his stomach had been begging to try it. His gaze wandered over to a certain vendor which seemed to sell what looked to be some sort of battered sausage on a stick -- a ‘corn dog’, as the signs read. It didn’t look healthy at all, but his mouth watered at the sight.

“Are you hungry?” Jisung asked, and Minho nodded, eyes fixed on the food. “You want a corn dog?”

Another nod from Minho, and the blonde was making his way over to the vendor, Minho following closely behind him with one of his hands moving to clutch at Jisung’s shirt as he noticed the large number of people surrounding the stall. Jisung turned back with a soft, knowing smile, and it was if all of Minho’s fears were swept away within a second. 

Minho’s first bite into his corn dog after Jisung had bought and handed it to him was like  _ heaven.  _ It tasted like nothing he’d ever had before,  _ incredibly  _ processed and greasy, yet he  _ loved  _ it. He couldn’t get enough of it, quickly downing around half of the corn dog in less than a minute. 

Jisung, his own corn dog in hand, laughed at his eagerness. “Slow down, you’ll get sick!”

As they ate, they wandered through the park, taking in the pretty sights and chatting about whatever came to mind. This was  _ nice,  _ just to walk with him, to eat with him, to enjoy his company -- there was always something so comforting about just being with Jisung, and it gave Minho’s mind a moment to breathe and forget about his mom, about the pain he’d felt for so long, about  _ everything _ . He wished he could pause time at this moment. But he couldn’t.

“What’s that?” Minho asked, his attention catching on an alley packed with stalls at either side. The stalls were filled with stuffed toys, ranging from small to very large, as well as what he assumed were different games. One had a small shooting range, another had lines of basketball hoops, and another had… a pond filled with ducks? 

“Oh, those are carnival games,” Jisung explained through a mouthful of corn dog, his cheeks endearingly puffing out in that way which reminded Minho of a squirrel. “Depending on how well you do, you can get different prizes!”

“Are you good at them?”

“Yeah! I’m great at them!”

Jisung was not great at them. 

Every one of his attempts at a game were… quite pitiful, really, and even across about five different games with a few attempts each, all he managed to stack up were tiny consolation plushies and toys. Minho wasn’t much better than Jisung, but he at least had the excuse of having never tried these games before -- Jisung was just laughably terrible at them.

Minho was close to telling Jisung to give up. He’d spent an ungodly amount of money already, and was only further proving his lack of skills with each game despite insisting that ‘he’s not bad, it’s just been a while’, so he’d be better off-

Oh god, that was the cutest plushie Minho had ever seen.

It was a  _ huge _ , pink stuffed bunny, bigger and fluffier than any of his own, with a white bow tied around its neck. It hung from the top of one of the stalls, and it stared at him with soft eyes, as if pleading him to take it home -- and now that he’d locked eyes with it, he couldn’t bring himself to just leave it  _ hanging  _ there. 

“Can we do just one more game?” 

“Which one?”

Minho looked down from where the stuffed bunny was and found himself staring at the pond of ducks he’d noticed earlier. “The one with the ducks. I like the bunny…”

“I’ll get you that bunny,” Jisung told him with determination, leading him to the stall with the duck pond and handing some cash to the man who was running it. 

“The rules are simple,” the man said, “it’s a game of chance. Each plastic duck has a number from one to three written underneath it. You catch one with a three, you get a consolation prize -- you get a duck with a one, you can have one of those big plushies up there.”

Finally, something that didn’t rely on Jisung’s mediocre carnival game skills.

The man handed Jisung a pole with a hook on the end which he could use to pick up one of the ducks, and the blonde focused on the pond, scoping out which one to pick. They all looked the same -- there was really no way to tell which ones might’ve been luckier. Minho looked up at the bunny and prayed internally.

Jisung picked a duck. He reached the pole toward it and slid the end of the pole under the duck’s hook, his expression more concentrated than Minho had ever seen it. The man took the duck and flipped it over, Minho holding his breath in anticipation.

It was a one.

Minho gasped with delight, turning to beam at Jisung, who had too smug of an expression for someone who picked a random duck in a game of chance and happened to win. The man took the bunny down from the top of the stall, handing it to Minho, and the brunette nestled his face into the fluffy fur of the plushie, so incredibly happy. “Thank you, Sungie.”

The two boys were starting to get a little tired at this point, but there was still just one more thing to do -- the ferris wheel. There was something a little nerving about the thought of being stuck in a carriage at god knows how many feet high, but Jisung’s constant words of reassurance, and the way he squeezed his hand for a moment to remind him that he was  _ there  _ for him, made it all a little less scary… even if it seemed as though Jisung was trying to reassure  _ himself  _ rather than Minho.

Upon entering their carriage, they placed the giant bunny plushie on one side and sat beside each other, far too close for Minho’s heart to handle. He could smell that sweet, musky scent of his, could feel his thigh rested against his own. Jisung met his eyes and he all but melted. “I’ve had fun tonight,” the blonde said softly, tiny lips perking up into a smile.

“Me, too,” Minho replied, and the carriage began to move upwards. 

It was nice just to sit in silence, watching the stars move through the window of the carriage as they were pressed against one other. Minho really wanted to hold his hand, to be as close to him as possible, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t risk ruining this moment. 

As the carriage raised higher and higher, Minho leaned a little toward the window, peering downward to try to see that rainbow city Jisung had mentioned earlier, however as soon as he looked down, his stomach turned, and he suddenly realized how  _ high up  _ they were. Oh, god, they were  _ suspended  _ in a rickety carriage at a couple hundred feet in the  _ air _ -

“Uh, Jisung?” Minho muttered. “I think I might also have a fear of heights.”

“Okay,” Jisung responded slowly, the word caught on a chuckle. “Okay, look at me instead.”

So he did. The sight he was met with was unlike any other -- Jisung was so  _ close  _ to him, his features illuminated ethereally by the moonlight and his eyes sparkling like the stars that surrounded the two of them. This was like a scene out of one of his books, so pretty, so  _ perfect _ . His breath hitched as Jisung slowly moved forward.

He’d read enough stories to know what that lean in meant.

And just as he began to anticipate Jisung’s lips against his own, the carriage stopped, causing Jisung to gasp and turn his head. “We’re at the top!”

Minho’s heart dropped. Had he read the situation wrong? He must have. Of course Jisung wouldn’t  _ kiss  _ him. 

“This is the best place to see the rainbow city,” Jisung said. “We don’t have to look, because I know it’s scary, but…”

But it wasn’t likely Minho would be able to sneak out of the house with him again like this.

Minho smiled, refusing to let Jisung notice how badly that thought pained him. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay, let’s look down on three.” Jisung took Minho’s hand in his and exhaled deeply. “One, two… three!”

The two both looked down through the window at once, hands interlacing as they took in the view. It was the most beautiful thing Minho had ever seen, save for the sight of Jisung irradiated by the moonlight from just a moment prior. It really was a city of rainbow -- various rides stood tall like buildings, blasting jolly music and painting the streets in vivid color where people roamed with the happiest of expressions. While it was fascinating to see it all from ground level, this was  _ mind blowing _ , and to share this moment with no one other than his favorite person in the entire world, to share it with  _ Jisung _ … he couldn’t have asked for more. 

“ _ Whoa _ ,” Jisung finally broke their silence, his eyes now reflecting the sea of colours below them. 

The moment dissipated far too quickly, the carriage beginning to make its way down once more. Neither boy made an effort to move their hands away as they tore their gazes from outside the window.

The rest of the night was a bit of an uneventful blur, Jisung driving them home and the both of them crashing onto the mattress in the shed from exhaustion. 

"I have something for us," Jisung said to Minho the next day, digging around in his bag before pulling out a bottle of mysterious liquid. "It's alcohol. You've read about it, right?"

Minho nodded; he'd remembered reading a detailed description of inebriation in one of his books. It sounded nice, but Minho was scared of losing control like the men in his stories often did. He trusted Jisung though, and knew he wouldn't let him drink too much.

“Do you want to try it? You don’t have to, but I figured it would be nice for you to experience something new.” 

“Yes please,” Minho replied apprehensively. It was thrilling yet nerve-wracking, trying something that he knew he shouldn’t. His mom would have a heart attack if she found out Minho was drinking  _ alcohol.  _ She already didn’t like Jisung -- said he was a bad influence, that he shouldn’t hang out with him so much. But she never stopped him from seeing him, thankfully. Minho didn’t know what he would do if she did.

“Alright. Warning you now, it’s not going to taste very good. I brought us little shot glasses, so if you’d like to use them, you’ll want to drink it really fast. All at once if you can. I also brought some sprite to chase it down, or we can mix them together if you prefer.” 

“I- I don’t know. You’re the expert here.” 

“Well… maybe we shouldn’t have you doing shots when it’s your first time drinking. Can you grab some cups for us?”

“Okay,” Minho replied, quietly running to his kitchen and back. When he returned, Jisung had gotten comfortable, sitting on his mattress in just his boxers and a tank top. Minho had to shake the dirty thoughts that immediately flooded his mind away; it was so hard to face him like this after everything he’d done to the thought of him. He’d imagined those toned arms around him, holding him, his hands roaming around Minho’s body a few too many times, and seeing them now… Minho was going to have to try really hard to hold back.

“What are you looking at?” Jisung teased, causing Minho to blush. He must have zoned out while staring at Jisung, a problem which had continuously been getting him into trouble for the short amount of time Jisung had been here. He found himself zoning out while staring at Jisung’s lips, his chest, his collarbones, shoulders, waist, knees, anywhere. Jisung always seemed to notice, but he never seemed to mind.

“N-nothing. Was just zoned out, sorry,” Minho half-lied. He couldn’t exactly say that he had gotten lost in his thoughts while staring at Jisung’s arms, daydreaming about them pinning him down and doing other inappropriate things. No, he couldn’t have Jisung knowing that he thought about him that way. Surely it would ruin everything.

Jisung looked as though he suspected it was more than that, but ultimately let it go, instead opting to pop open the bottle. It was kind of hot, the way he did it so effortlessly, arms flexing just the slightest bit. Minho was pretty sure it definitely shouldn’t have been  _ that _ attractive to him, but it seemed that whatever Jisung did was having even worse of an effect on him than it used to, which was saying something.

“Here, you can pour your own,” Jisung handed him the bottle and held a cup steady for him. Minho ended up pouring about one part vodka to two parts sprite, which he hoped would be a good enough ratio. Jisung’s was closer to half and half, but he figured he was more experienced, so that made sense. 

Jisung held up his glass and said, “cheers,” so Minho did the same, not really knowing what that meant.

“You’re supposed to bump glasses,” Jisung giggled, moving his glass forward to where the two of theirs clashed. “Sorry, I forgot you’ve probably never read about that part.” 

“Oh,” Minho felt like an uncultured idiot. It seemed like his books left out many important things, like what the fuck to do when the boy you’re in love with is suddenly staring at you with heart eyes.

_ Why _ was Jisung looking at him like he meant the world to him? Was he toying with him?

Jisung suddenly cleared his throat and shook his head. “We should uhh… probably drink now,” he said awkwardly.

Minho watched Jisung take a sip and hesitantly followed suit. He immediately shuddered the second the liquid hit his tongue because by god, it was  _ awful _ . While the sprite helped a bit, the taste was still beyond foul, and it felt like his throat was on fire. The only pleasant feeling was that of it filling his insides, warming them and making him feel a little fuzzy. 

“You okay?” Jisung asked, voice full of concern.

“Yeah, I think so,” Minho’s face felt hot, and he was sure it was turning red, but it somehow wasn’t unpleasant. He risked taking another sip, and then another, and soon he felt the warmth in his face spread to the rest of his body, making him feel like he was overheating. “It’s hot,” he complained lazily.

“Of course it is, you’re wearing so many clothes,” Jisung giggled. “Here, let’s take a couple layers off.” Minho felt a little sad as Jisung removed his special sweater, gently placing it to the side, but then he realized that  _ Jisung’s _ hands were on him, undressing him, and the feeling quickly went away -- replaced by a different feeling entirely, one that Minho didn’t know what to call. 

He felt so overwhelmingly  _ warm _ as Jisung undressed him, and yet he was shivering underneath his touch, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. His hands only touched his skin briefly, but his body leaned into those fleeting touches, craving, begging for more.

Jisung obliged him, slowly taking Minho's pants off, his hands just barely grazing his skin as he did so. Everywhere Jisung touched felt like it was lit ablaze, becoming scorching hot, and it felt so devastatingly  _ good;  _ Minho was positive he'd died and gone to some kind of heaven.

Before he knew it, he was down to his boxers, and Jisung was removing his tank top, saying they needed to “get even.” Minho’s nerves were at an all time high; it wasn't like they hadn't been in this position before, but something about it felt different this time -- the air was heavy, so heavy it was hard to breathe, and the tension between them was palpable.

Minho nearly gasped upon seeing Jisung’s body; his abs had somehow become defined since the last time he’d seen him, and Minho was starting to feel  _ that _ way, his blood pooling to his cock. He tried to will the familiar feeling away, but it was futile. He only hoped Jisung wouldn't notice the wet spot forming in his boxers.

“Do you like what you see?” Jisung winked. Minho nearly missed it with how intensely he was staring at Jisung’s abs, imagining licking them all over, biting them, tracing each muscle with his fingers... He wanted to touch him, to feel him, to  _ have _ him. And just like Jisung had read his mind, Minho’s shaking hands were suddenly being moved to the blonde’s stomach. “How do they feel?”

“I- um, they feel… yes,” Minho managed to stutter out, too preoccupied by feeling the firm muscles to focus on making a coherent sentence.

"Good. Minnie, come here," Jisung giggled, motioning him forward with his finger, "I have a secret."

"What kind of secret?" Minho asked nervously as he scooted closer to Jisung, his hands still on his torso.

Jisung leaned in and got close to Minho’s ear, breath hot against him. "I like boys," he admitted softly. 

“I- in what way?” Minho pulled back, looking him in the eyes.

“In what way do you think? I like to kiss boys,” Jisung closed his eyes and smiled as if reliving a fond memory. “I got to kiss a boy at college. It was… nice, but I didn’t really feel anything for him. There were no sparks flying or anything poetic like that, it was nothing like in the books. And… well, I couldn’t help but wish I were kissing someone else.”

Minho felt like a knife was digging deeper and deeper into his chest with every word. Jisung had kissed another boy and  _ liked  _ it, and not only that, but he wished it were someone else? Minho had the slightest sliver of hope that it was him for just a second, but then Jisung started going off about this brown-headed stranger with a five-letter name or something weirdly poetic like that. Minho couldn’t bring it in him to pay attention any longer, only nodding when he felt it was appropriate as he tried to choke back the tears that threatened to fall. 

Everything started to spin, and Minho had to lay down. He had to get rid of this awful, awful sinking feeling. Before he could think, he grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a big swig. It burnt his throat even worse than before without the sprite to water it down, and the awful taste lingered in his mouth, but after taking sip after sip, he started to get used to it.

“Minho?” he heard Jisung’s voice, but it sounded distant, fuzzy. “Minho?” he said again, louder. When Minho didn’t reply, Jisung took the bottle straight from his lips and chugged the rest himself. 

“What was that for?” Minho whined.

“Can’t let you drink too much, so I drank it,” he grinned sloppily, looking like he was about to glaze over. “I care about you a lot, you know?”

“I know. I care about you a lot, too,” Minho smiled bitterly, still trying not to cry. 

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked, laying down next to him. 

“Yeah, yeah… it’s just…” Minho trailed off, gathering his composure before continuing, "Jisung?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I like boys too."

"Oh really?" Jisung grinned at him. "I'm glad you feel comfortable sharing that with me." He turned over on his side to where he was facing Minho, his eyes full of happiness as they stared at each other in silence.

"And Jisung?" Minho whispered after a while, his voice tinier than he'd ever heard it come out before. 

"Yeah?"

"I think I like you," he slurred.


	2. Our Days Are Numbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho learns a lot from Jisung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm finally here with an update. Sorry for taking way longer than expected, a lot happened involving my mental health as anyone who follows me on twitter probably knows, and then Mika and I were really struggling to work on this for awhile, and then I got busy with something else... but it's here now, and hopefully the next chapter won't take as long!
> 
> Please enjoy, we worked hard on it!

"I think I like you," he slurred.

Jisung's eyes widened and Minho briefly panicked, but then Jisung scooted towards him, a shy smile plastered onto his face. Minho swore he could see him blushing, and he imagined that his own cheeks flushed the same pink based on how warm his face felt. 

"Can I kiss you?" Jisung asked softly. Minho nodded; he'd read so much about kissing, and he was excited to try it. His lips started tingling as Jisung leaned in, ever so delicately linking their mouths together. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the kiss, but it felt like Minho was on fire, every inch of his skin becoming warm as they sat there, unmoving, just enjoying the feeling of being  _ connected. _

When Jisung pulled away, Minho instinctively leaned in for more, but Jisung just laughed at him and bopped his nose with his finger. 

“I like you too, Minho,” he said contentedly, a soft, happy gleam that Minho had never quite seen before in his eyes. It felt like it was something special, reserved for only Minho to see -- a secret moment shared between just the two of them. “I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he teased, slapping Minho’s arm playfully. “What took you so long, huh?”

“I-I thought you didn’t like me…” Minho trailed off, thinking about all the times he’d agonized over whether or not Jisung felt the same, always ultimately deciding on no, because why would  _ he _ like  _ him? _ He was just  _ Minho.  _ Plain, boring Minho who’s never been allowed to experience the world. He had nothing to offer anyone, and he wouldn’t be able to actually  _ be with _ anyone at least until he was free from his mother’s grasp, anyways.

As if reading his mind, Jisung shook his head. “Of course I like you. You mean the world to me.” he paused, stroking Minho’s hair, “And we will be  _ together _ together one day. I’d wait forever for that day if I had to. I would do anything for you.”

Minho could do nothing but connect their mouths again, knowing the kiss would speak louder than his words ever could. He wanted to spend eternity with Jisung, and he was so relieved that he felt the same. He could  _ finally _ stop torturing himself with thoughts of Jisung not liking him back. Instead, he could just enjoy their time together while they still had it.

Jisung responded by pulling Minho closer, their bare, slightly sweaty torsos pushed together in a way Minho’s imagination had failed to prepare him for. The proximity propelled him past the point of just being warm, into the threshold of overwhelmingly  _ hot. _ If he felt like he was on fire before, he was being swallowed by the flames now, completely engulfed by the heat. 

Just as Minho finally grew accustomed to the heat, Jisung made the flames roar again by sliding his hand down the curves of his back, all the way down to his ass. He squeezed tightly and Minho moaned into his mouth, involuntarily rutting against Jisung’s body with desperation. The blonde giggled against his lips and pulled away, seemingly to observe Minho’s probably flushed face.

“Do you like it when I touch you here?” Jisung moved his hands in small circles for emphasis, watching as Minho reacted. 

“Yes,” Minho said a little too quickly. 

“Mmm,” Jisung hummed. “How about… here?” he wedged a knee between Minho’s legs, pushing it lightly against his crotch. 

“O-oh,” Minho stuttered out, his cock twitching underneath Jisung’s touch. “Yes,” he managed to reply, already getting close to that sweet release he’d grown so accustomed to. It was like humping his plushies, but infinitely better because it was another person -- because it was  _ Jisung.  _ He’d imagined a moment like this an indefinite number of times, and Jisung somehow exceeded all of his expectations just by using his  _ knee _ of all things. 

“Are you hard?” Jisung asked him suddenly, clearly amused by Minho’s overreaction to every slight touch. 

“Hard?” Minho repeated, confused. He’d never heard the term used like that before.

“Are you turned on? Maybe… feeling a little weird down there?”

“Yes,” Minho whimpered as he humped Jisung’s knee. He desperately chased that wonderful, familiar feeling, but then sudden anxiety made him pause. Would Jisung think it was weird if he finished like this? Were they moving too fast? 

“Why’d you stop?”

“I’m just thinking… Is it okay if I, you know… finish? Right now? While I’m against you like this?”

“Yes, Minho. You think too much,” Jisung shook his head with an adoring smile. “Can you keep looking at me? I want to watch you as you fall apart.”

“Sure,” Minho blushed at the idea of Jisung staring at him so intently, watching his every facial expression. He gasped when he felt Jisung’s hand slip underneath his boxers; his skin was incredibly sensitive, and the way Jisung just lightly grazed his ass with the tips of his fingers sent chills up and down his spine. He shivered; he was so warm, everything was so  _ warm, _ and yet his body was littered with goosebumps, his hairs standing on end as Jisung continued his movements.

Jisung stared down at Minho with lustful eyes, his pupils dilated and lids half shut. Minho gazed back at him shyly and hesitantly started grinding against his knee again, his hips moving smoothly, almost gracefully, as he found a rhythm that allowed him to chase his release. 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Jisung said softly, reaching out using his free hand to delicately caress his cheek with his thumb. Minho flushed at the praise, and his face burned impossibly hot as he struggled to remain eye contact. It felt so overwhelmingly  _ intimate;  _ they were so close, hardly a few inches between them. He could feel Jisung’s breath against his face, sweet like strawberries, and Minho’s heavy breaths must have been filling Jisung’s senses as well. 

Jisung was intoxicating; every little touch had Minho spiralling further into drunkenness. Every roll of his hips, every subtle touch of Jisung’s fingers against his skin, every whisper in his ear -- it was all so addictive, like a force pulling him to obey Jisung, to trust Jisung, to lose himself under his touch.

And every time Jisung kissed him, despite his clouded judgement and spinning mind, he swore he fell in love with him all over again.

“Wh--!” Minho suddenly exclaimed as he was met with a foreign feeling between the cheeks of his ass -- did Jisung just touch…  _ that _ place? That dirty place? Did it just feel  _ good _ ? 

Jisung quickly pulled his fingers away from his hole, seemingly unsure if Minho’s reaction was a good one or not. ‘Was that okay?’

With a shaking hand, Minho reached behind himself to guide Jisung back to it, cheeks burning with embarrassment of his own bravery. “Can you… maybe… do that again, please?”

The blonde seemed to think for a moment, before removing his hand from his boxers entirely, provoking a small, confused whine out of Minho. He watched as Jisung slid two fingers into his own mouth and sucked down on them, eyes burning into Minho’s in a way that made his whole body turn to jelly. He’d never seen Jisung like this before; not this dominant, not this  _ hungry _ … he could get used to this. If only he could get used to this.

Jisung took his fingers from his mouth and swiftly moved them back underneath Minho’s boxers. The older gasped as he felt his fingers resume their place on his hole and begin to rub gently over it; the stimulation was subtle, compared to the feeling of rutting against Jisung’s knee, but it had him shivering all over, his hands shakily gripped to the other’s shoulders and a series of whimpers bubbling from his throat. He subconsciously paused the rhythm of his hips to grind against his fingers, backing up a little.

“Baby, baby,” Jisung hummed, tracing his thumb over Minho’s thigh. “Keep your hips moving, okay?”

Minho did as told, even if with a tiny noise of protest, and Jisung pulled him into another kiss as a sort of praise. The kiss was messy, much messier than those soft kisses from earlier; Minho could hardly keep up, moaning into Jisung’s mouth. Jisung’s touches set his skin on fire, tingling, burning, overwhelming. It was all so much, feeling Jisung’s hands exploring his body and teasing his hole, humping his knee as if it were one of his plushies, sloppily linking his tongue with Jisung’s. It was all so much, and he was getting so close.

“I… I’m,” Minho stuttered, hardly able to find the words to express himself in his inebriated, dazzled mind, “I’m… Jisung, I--”

“Are you close?” Jisung asked. Minho nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back. “Hey, remember what I said? Eyes on me.”

He whined, but obeyed; it was so embarrassing to feel his eyes on him like this, watching every dirty movement, every erotic facial expression, listening to every squeak and whimper he couldn’t contain. Jisung had one hand on Minho’s hip now, guiding him to move faster.

“Go on, sweetheart.” That was all that Minho needed from him before he was arriving at  _ that  _ feeling, his climax hitting him like a ton of bricks; his body jerked, Jisung’s name loudly slipping past his lips, and he felt that white liquid coat the front of his underwear. Jisung watched every second of it, gaze hungrily travelling over all of his shaking, sweat-glazed features. 

The pleasure that overcame Minho was  _ mind blowing _ \-- far better than any of those times he’d used his plushies… because he’d used Jisung’s real knee, Jisung’s real hands. Because he was staring into Jisung’s real eyes, and Jisung was really with him, and Jisung had really just told him he liked him. 

Jisung slid his hand out of Minho’s boxers and rubbed it over his back gently, his eyes softening. Minho stopped moving his hips and melted against him into a hug. “Jisung, I- I  _ really _ like you.”

“I know, Minho. I  _ really _ like you too,” Jisung giggled, then suddenly his tongue was against Minho’s face, licking him from his jaw up to the area below his eye.

"You're going to give me acne," Minho whined, scrunching his nose at him.

"Then I'll lick your acne too."

"That's gross."

"You like it."

"Shut up, loser,” Minho playfully pushed him away, unable to help the grin that plastered itself on his face. Jisung was  _ cute. _ Too fucking cute. It was bad for his heart.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as Jisung and Minho both settled back into their respective spots on the mattress. They laid there for a while, just looking at each other fondly, taking time to refamiliarize themselves with each other’s faces.

“So, what are you into nowadays?” Minho asked eventually, curious about what life was like outside of his little bubble.

“The same old shit. Music, games. I’ve been writing and composing songs with these two guys I met in class, they’re really cool,” Jisung smiled fondly as he spoke of them.

All Minho could say was “oh.” He was happy that Jisung was spending time with friends, that he was pursuing his interests in music with them, but he was jealous that it couldn’t be him that Jisung spent all of his time with, jealous that it wasn’t him that he spoke of with such an adoring smile.

“Yeah. What about you? What books have you been reading lately?”

“Picture books,” Minho blushed. “It sounds childish, I know, but… the animals are cute. I really want to see them in real life some day.”

“Ah!” Jisung’s brain seemed to hatch an idea. “I should take you to the zoo. Do you think your mom will be gone during the day anytime before I leave?”

“It’s hard to say… it depends on her condition, I guess. I don’t really know a lot about what they even do while she’s there, or what makes her go up there. I just know that some days she tells me she’s got to leave for a little while, or sometimes for a few days at a time, and then someone picks her up in a white car.”

“Well, not to wish something bad on your mom or anything, but I really hope she goes to the hospital sometime this week. I think you’d love the zoo,” Jisung rolled over once so he was right next to Minho and left a small kiss on his nose, then rolled back, leaving him flustered.

“I hope so too,” Minho sighed. “How big are giraffes in real life? The pictures always paint them as gigantic. And what about hippos? Do zoos have cats?” Minho shot question after question at Jisung, much to Jisung’s amusement. 

“Well,” Jisung giggled, “to answer your first question, giraffes  _ are _ gigantic. They’re really tall, with really long necks, as you’ve probably seen.”

“Can you ride giraffes?”

“Theoretically, yes? I don’t know if their anatomy is very good for that sort of thing, but I’m sure you could hop up on a giraffe’s back if you really wanted to - with the help of a really tall ladder, of course.”

“Nice,” Minho grinned to himself, envisioning himself on the back of a giant creature. “Do you think the zoo would let us do that?”

“Absolutely not,” Jisung snorted. His face softened when Minho pouted sadly, his dreams of riding a giraffe having been crushed. “ _ But _ , they might have a petting zoo, where you can at least touch all sorts of animals!” he said excitedly. 

Minho smiled at that. He wanted to feel if the animals’ fur was as soft as it was always described in books. “What about the hippos?” he asked enthusiastically. 

“Oh, they’re really big too. Not nearly as tall as giraffes, but they’re wide enough to make up for it. They’re big boys.”

“And what about the cats? I’ve always wanted a cat. Apparently people keep them as pets? I want a pet cat. Why can’t I have a pet cat? I asked my mom and she told me it was too much responsibility,” Minho rambled.

“Zoos don’t generally carry domestic animals like cats, no. But they might have lions, cheetahs, and tigers, which are all kind of like really big cats? Big, aggressive cats.”

“Sweet,” Minho liked the idea of really big cats.

“Yeah! When I went, I liked the quokkas, but they’re Australian animals so I don’t think they’d have them in the zoos here,” Jisung frowned. “I want to see them again.”

“You went to Australia?” Minho looked at him in awe.

“Yep, I went with Chan and Changbin. They’re the ones who I make music with. Chan is actually originally from Australia, so when he went to visit his parents, Changbin and I kinda just tagged along.”

“Oh,” Minho said again, the jealousy eating away at him. Not only did his friends get to see him every day for class, but they went on an entire trip to a different country together? Minho couldn’t help but be filled with bitterness. He wanted to be happy for them, but it wasn’t fair that they got to occupy so much of Jisung’s time. He found himself wondering whether or not they slept on the same mattress like the two of them did, and the thought burned a hole into Minho’s heart.

“Minho, look at me. You’re spaced out. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just… tired is all.”

“You know I know you better than that. Was it something I said?”

“No. Well, yes. I guess I’m just jealous of your friends. They get to see you all the time, and I’m lucky to get even a week with you. It’s not fair that things are… like this. That I can’t go anywhere and that you guys can go wherever the hell you feel like.”

“I know, baby,” Jisung soothed. “But it won’t always be like this, I promise.”

“It will be until my mom… you know... “ Minho teared up at the realization that he will only be free when his mother passes away. He’d always known it somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t something he liked to acknowledge.

“I know, I know. Shh, don’t cry,” Jisung rolled over again until he was face to face with Minho, and he wiped away a stray tear that escaped his watery eyes.

“Where will I go when that happens? What will I do? I have no life experience, she’s set me up for failure, she- she-” Minho stuttered as the tears started pouring out, and soon he was sobbing heavily, his face turning puffy and red.

“Minho, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay, I promise. You’ll stay with me, I’ll take care of you for as long as you need. We’ll find you a job somewhere, maybe-”

“Who would want to hire some loser who never even graduated from high school?” Minho wailed.

“You’d be surprised. You’re charming, and you’re not afraid of people despite never having been around them. There’s a cat cafe not far from my college, I could help you apply there. Surely you don’t need an education to serve food and take care of cats.”

“That would be nice,” Minho sniffled. “But what if that doesn’t work out?”

“Then we’ll find somewhere else. There are infinite options, Minnie. Just relax, and try not to think about it for now. It’s late, let’s get some sleep,” Jisung patted his head then hopped up to turn the lamp off. He struggled to find his way back to the mattress in the dark, but when he did, he wrapped an arm protectively around Minho and held him close. Minho relaxed warmly in his hold, exhaustion sweeping over him. His eyelids were heavy.

“Thank you, Jisung. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Minho really meant it. 

He drifted off quickly in the safety of Jisung’s arms, his mind full of the blonde boy right next to him. It was only natural that he started dreaming of him, his mind creating wonderful images of the two of them grinding against each other. Minho took the lead, pinning Jisung down beneath him and rolling his hips against Jisung’s, creating a beautiful amount of friction. 

Minho was somehow aware that he was dreaming, but the feeling of grinding against Jisung was so realistic that he couldn’t find it in him to care. He was in heaven; the blissful feeling of their crotches rubbing together felt like something otherworldly, and he never wanted it to end. He would live in this dream forever if he could.

“Minho,” he heard his name distantly, arousing him from his sleep. “Minho,” the voice called out a little louder, a little firmer. “Minho!” it nearly yelled, and something about the way it sounded so desperate made Minho finally open his eyes.

“What?” Minho asked groggily, annoyed that he’d been awoken from such a nice dream.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, it’s just that… well… you, um… you were humping me,” Jisung told him somewhat shyly. “And it’s caused me a bit of a problem.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Minho’s eyes widened, “I was having a dream. I’ll stop now.” He made a move to back away, but Jisung wrapped his arms around his waist before he could.

“You don’t have to stop,” Jisung said, that same desperation from earlier present in his voice. 

“Okay,” Minho allowed himself to relax in his grip. “Then… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to tell me what kind of dream you were having,” the blonde looked at him lustfully, and Minho became aware of how painfully turned on he was, how his cock ached and throbbed in his boxers as it rested against the bulge in Jisung’s.

“It was about you…” Minho trailed off, hoping Jisung would understand the gist of it without him having to endure the embarrassment of explaining it.

Unfortunately, he did not get off the hook so easily. “What about me?” Jisung wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he traced lines down Minho’s exposed back, his fingers travelling close to his waistband but never quite reaching it.

Minho’s cheeks flushed as he vividly recalled the way Jisung moaned out his name while they rutted against each other. “Well, it was sort of like that time you were um, letting me hump your knee, except…” he trailed off again, his voice breaking a little, and he felt a familiar rush of heat to his cheeks. 

“Except?” Jisung moved a hand to intertwine with Minho’s, giving it a little squeeze as if urging him to continue. 

“Except we were positioned kind of how we are now, with um… with our… you know what... pressed together,“ Minho knew the word, but found it too humiliating to say. 

“Our cocks?” Jisung offered.

“Yes, those,” Minho said awkwardly. “And, um…” Minho was excruciatingly aware of how much he was saying ‘um’ and trailing off, but he couldn’t find the confidence to not stumble over his words.

“You know I’ll never judge you, right?” Jisung said suddenly, stroking his hand comfortingly with his thumb.

“I know, Sungie. It’s just… embarrassing,” Minho felt like his entire body was blushing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can say what happened out loud.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. I think I understand what happened. Was it something like… this?” Jisung rolled his hips against Minho’s, drawing out a soft moan from between the older’s lips. 

“Yes, just like that...” Minho spoke in just barely a whisper, his voice stopping in its tracks before it was able to say the second part of the sentence. He wanted to tell him to do it again, he wanted to make a move like the dream version of him did, but he was paralyzed and the words got stuck in his throat.

Thankfully, Jisung always seemed to be able to read him. He repeated the motion with more force this time, and Minho’s body finally reacted a little, his back arching as he pushed his crotch into Jisung’s. The friction felt so overwhelmingly  _ good _ that his body naturally performed the action again, this time eliciting a small moan from Jisung. 

“Can I kiss you?” Jisung asked while leaning in, pausing just an inch from Minho’s mouth as he eagerly awaited his reply.

Minho nodded, his lips parting and eyes closing as he continued rutting against him.

“I need words, Minho,” Jisung hummed disapprovingly. 

“Y-yes,” Minho stuttered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, you can kiss me,” Minho managed to say, and before he knew it, Jisung’s lips were encapturing his in a soft yet needy kiss. Minho was quick to return it, following Jisung’s movements and whimpering against him at every filthy thrust of his hips. They drank up each other’s noises as they kissed, hands wandering sleepily over bare skin, legs shifting to tangle up and further bring them closer together; Jisung was warm against him, and his mouth even warmer. It all felt so good. Jisung felt so good. 

Their bodies were flushed against one another, hips grinding with fervour and tongues intertwined. Minho didn’t really know how to kiss, his knowledge stemming from only his books and from what he could remember of the night before, but it wasn’t too difficult to follow Jisung’s lead. Their lips melded perfectly together, gently, lazily, and when Jisung bit down lightly on his bottom lip, Minho let out a breathy whine. 

“Let’s do it together, okay?” Jisung murmured, pausing the kiss and smiling softly after Minho answered with a nod. 

Jisung quickened the pace of his hips, urging Minho to do the same, and the room echoed with an even louder duet of moans as they relentlessly rubbed against each other. Minho dug his nails into Jisung’s back, his head nestling into the crook of his neck, while Jisung simultaneously snaked his arm around his waist, pulling him ever closer into a tight hug. 

“I-- can I, please?” Minho practically begged, muffled against the skin of his neck. He could feel the wetness of the front of Jisung’s boxers, how it slid dirtily against his own, and he revelled in the idea that he helped to make Jisung feel as good as he did.

Jisung hummed in affirmation, rutting even harder, even faster. “Do it with me, baby. Go on.”

And Minho did, clutching onto Jisung with a loud moan as it hit them both at the same time; pleasure surged through him, enveloping his senses and taking over his mind. Somehow, it seemed to feel even better than when he’d used Jisung’s knee, even more electrifying, even more gratifying. He wanted Jisung to show him more, to make him feel even better, and he wanted to make Jisung feel that way, too. 

Their boxers were messy and they really should have made an effort to change out of them, but they instead nestled close to each other, silently agreeing that they’d clean up later. 

Jisung dozed off again within seconds, his arm still wrapped loosely around Minho’s waist, but Minho couldn’t get anywhere near the point of falling asleep -- too energized from the whole encounter to even  _ think _ about crashing again. He took a moment to admire Jisung’s sleeping features; he looked peaceful, calm, and there was something about his sleeping form that was oddly beautiful.

Minho felt like a creep with his eyes grazing over each of his sleeping features, lingering on his heart-shaped lips and the way they had fallen open slightly, then travelling to his puffy cheeks and long eyelashes, which occasionally fluttered as if his eyes were threatening to open. Minho didn’t want to disturb his slumber, but he felt a severe hunger gnawing at his stomach, so he slowly slid out of Jisung’s grip.

He admired Jisung’s features one last time, then placed a small kiss on his delicate nose before getting up and fetching paper and a pencil. “I’ll be back, making breakfast,” he wrote down in his sloppy handwriting, leaving the note on his pillow before sliding some clothes on. He turned the doorknob as quietly as he could, then went through the door, shutting it behind him with a soft click; he hoped he hadn’t woken him.

Upon entering the kitchen, he was greeted by his mother, who looked very sickly. “Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you would wake up,” she smiled at him weakly. “I’ll be going to the hospital today, and they may keep me overnight this time.”

“Oh, okay,” Minho acted as though he was upset, although he was cheering internally, already excited to tell Jisung the news. Maybe they could go to the zoo, or to a cat cafe, or maybe Jisung would take him somewhere surprising. “When are you leaving?”

“Someone will be here to pick me up in about an hour. Would you mind making some breakfast before I go?”

“I already planned on it,” Minho grinned, retrieving the eggs and bacon from the fridge -- two of the few things he knew how to make. He cracked the eggs effortlessly into a bowl, a maneuver he’d practiced a countless number of times, then stirred them up until they were nice and liquidy.

He felt a bit lazy so he put the bacon in the microwave rather than on the stove, then went to work making the scrambled eggs. He didn’t season them until after they were on their individual plates; his mom liked hers plain, while Jisung preferred his covered in salt and pepper and various spices. Minho didn’t really know what he was putting on them, just that Jisung scarfed it down every time he made them.

When the microwave beeped, Minho retrieved the bacon and put two pieces on each of their plates. His mom thanked him for the meal, and unable to contain his excitement, Minho rushed out to the shed to feed Jisung and tell him the wonderful news. 

“Jisung!” Minho called out as he struggled to open the door with his hands full of plates of food. “Jisung, wake up, my mom-- Jisung?”

Jisung was already up, pulling his pants over his hips with a glazed over look on his face. “Minho, hey,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Why are you getting dressed?”

“My dad called, said I have to go home. Apparently it’s important,” he sighed, shoving his feet into his boots.

“B-but, you can’t go. My mom, she’s going to be at the hospital overnight today, we could--”

“I’m sorry, Minnie. I have to go, they said it’s urgent. I don’t know whether I’ll be back or not.”

“Oh,” was all Minho could say. The silence hurt his ears. “Can’t you stay to eat your food real quick?” he asked eventually. “I know you can eat fast, with those chubby cheeks of yours.”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong exactly, but they said it’s something with my grandma, and you know how important she is to me,” Jisung took the plates of food from Minho’s hands and set them on the bed. “Here, I’ll have a couple of bites,” he folded a piece of bacon in half then stuffed it in his mouth whole, chewing it up quickly and swallowing it. 

“Please don’t go,” Minho tried one last time, tears threatening to escape his eyes. He understood somewhere deep down that it was important that Jisung left, but it still stung unbelievably hard, still hurt like hell when the idea of Jisung leaving engrained itself in his mind. “Please don’t leave me, I can’t handle it, I-”

Jisung interrupted him by dragging him into a bruising kiss, and when he pulled away, Minho could see he was on the verge of tears as well. “I don’t want to leave you, Minho, but I have to. Please try to understand. I’ll be back before my break ends if I can, but if not, I’ll see you in the summer,” he smiled at him sadly as tears started pouring out of Minho’s eyes.

“Don’t go, please don’t go,” Minho sobbed. He couldn’t handle the idea of not seeing Jisung again until the summer, couldn’t handle the idea of going back to his life of misery already. He’d gotten caught up in this fairytale world where only him and Jisung existed, and he was being ripped back into reality, his fantasies being torn to shreds. “I can’t live without you.”

“I’ll really miss you,” Jisung held onto him as Minho cried into his shoulder, but eventually, he had to let go. He had to leave Minho. And when he finally did, when that door closed behind him, Minho broke. He stared at Jisung’s barely touched food and weeped to himself; he couldn’t look at it anymore, so he ate it, he ate all of it, he ate every single piece of both his and Jisung’s breakfast until he felt sick to the stomach.

Minho shoved the empty plates to the side and laid back on Jisung’s side of the mattress, desperately hoping it still smelled like him. It didn’t; it smelt like Minho’s mint shampoo that Jisung had been using. He couldn’t even have that. He looked around for something, anything that remained of Jisung, when his eyes stumbled upon the note he wrote.

It was turned over, and in Jisung’s handwriting -- crooked and messy, as if he’d been rushing -- it read, “To my dearest Minho, as you probably know by now, I have to leave you. I will miss you very, very much. I left you one of my new favorite books. It’s fantasy, you should like it. It’s got tons of mystical animals in it, and I know how much you love animals. I cried while reading it, but we both know that’s just because I’m a big baby. I really will miss you. Love, Jisung.”

And just like that, in a mere matter of seconds, he was back to square one. His heart shattered into pieces, his cheeks stained with tears. No Jisung in sight.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and as always, comments, kudos, and CCs are all greatly appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [jibrator](https://twitter.com/jibrator)
> 
> Curiouscat: [SephSung](https://curiouscat.me/SephSung)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed! I would love to get your feedback, so please do leave comments or CCs if you did, they are my life force <3
> 
> Twitter: [jibrator](https://twitter.com/jibrator)
> 
> Curiouscat: [SephSung](https://curiouscat.me/SephSung)


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